


Murphy's Law

by Orca (Orca2)



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:45:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orca2/pseuds/Orca
Summary: writing practice





	1. Chapter 1

Desperate hands clutched to his tattered clothing, her nails drawing red lines across his skin. He looked forward with a passive stare, probing the overflowing brown eyes just inches from his. When she spoke her voice was riddled with sobs, and hiccups shook her frame. “Please, please don't tell,” she continued on, shaking his shoulders in an attempt garner a response.

He shook his head, pale hair falling over his forehead, to which she responded with an agonized shriek. His sleeve was then promptly torn and stretched as she proceeded into hollow outrage. Her fists clenched and unclenched on the fabric, knuckles going white as she tried to bite down her screams. “I can't.” 

The metal wall was cold against his back as she pressed him against it. “Why not?” It was more of a lament then a question– the words wavered just as much as her pained expression. He found his footing, and pressed against the floor to push himself into a standing position. His arms were quickly grabbed and he was shoved back down, hard, and he couldn't help but flinch at the impact.

“No— you're not! Don't you dare!” His head was spinning from the amount of times he had been shaken like a ragdoll. Arteries pulsating with hot anger painted his vision red. “This is too far and you know it!” The yell scraped his already raw throat. His hands encircled her bony wrists, which he tried to push away. She hiccuped, sobbing in deranged hysterics. “No! Please!” She pulled away only to wrap her arms around his neck, while he tried to push her off. “Please, no, don't– don't leave.” Tears rolled down from her cheeks to puddle on his shoulder. Her words were far too loud right up against his ear. “I can't do this anymore,” he said in a dead, monotone voice.

“Stop,” she begged in desperate heaves for air. She pressed her face into his neck to drown out whatever he was to say next. “Stop, stop, stopstopstop.” The words were muffled against his skin, and he could feel saliva against his clavicle. He sighed, half in frustration and half in defeat. He let his hand run up and down her back as she let out her last remaining sobs. His fingers caught on the gnarled stitches beneath her thin shirt, which made his frown deepen.

Her lips met his wet skin, as did her twining eyelashes. His sobriety soon died, and he held no inclination as his hand settled on the indent of stitches just above her waist. “My life is over,” he whispered vaguely. He stared up at the ceiling, eyebrows knitted.

“No it's not,” she responded after some hesitation. She was a deadweight in his lap, heavy and lifeless. Sorrow made his heart twinge, and he gathered her patchwork-self up in his arms. “Yes it is.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Dahlia,” he called towards the direction of a familiar silhouette, a black shadow against the gray dawn. Her eyes had glazed over, and she was staring off past the fence, lost in thought. She glanced over at him, blankly, crumpled soda can still in hand. The gravel crunched beneath his shoes as he walked towards her. She looked away as he advanced, turning around to press her cheek against the bars. “Don't even try it,” he warned harshly. The crunching came to a stop as he stood beside her, glaring downwards like a scolding parent. “No more silent treatment, you can't just run away from everything.” His eyes were stern, solid like stones. His usual light demeanor had washed away like the tide.

Dahlia sighed, fog escaping her mouth to swirl around in the air. He watched as she subtly tried to gulp down the blood gathering in her mouth. The corners of her lips were tinted red, and the freshness of bright new blood on her tongue was ever more apparent as she spoke. “I'm f'orry...” The words were slurred and barely coherent. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

His lids were weighing down, begging to close. He absentmindedly rubbed his eye, and as a result, dislodged his contact lens. “Oh, shit.” He blinked as his eye began to water, now left with one blurry image and one clear one. Dahlia was staring at him with her head tilted, and almost appeared intrigued. He shook his head and forced his hands to his sides. “Nothing, nevermind.”

She reached out to touch his hand, but hesitated, then dropped her arm away; staring down at her shoes instead. She reached up to wipe her mouth with her sleeve. “Mh, won't do it again.” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed again to keep blood from dripping down her chin. “We can sthay a little longer,” she finished feebly, meeting his gaze with a semi-hopeful expression. A shiver visibly shook her spine, hands now shaking from the cold. 

He looked away, unfocusing his eyes until the world was a blur. His hands twitched, itching to make another mistake, to hold on to another batch of problems, as they so loved to do. And they did.

Her skin _was_ indeed very cold, and he ended up letting her hold his hand to warm them up as they walked back to his shed. Quietly, both knowing that it was merely another setup for disaster.


	3. Chapter 3

“Mmmh,” Dahlia hummed fondly, making herself comfortable in the bundle of clothing, which put a layer between her ear and Murphy's slow-beating heart. His back was bent at an odd position, pressed against the notches and bolts in the wall. He bit his cheek to keep from complaining.

A faint collision sounded in the distance, echoing off the hollow buildings, which caused Dahlia to bury herself deeper into his sweater. His blood began to race, heart picking up instantly. His eyes snapped open to look out over the open sky.

Towering demolition vehicles had encircled the building over to their right, which now had a round indentation in its side. Beeping alarms resonated through the empty streets, the type that belongs to big, obnoxious trucks that want  _everyone_ to know they're going in reverse. “This is so stupid,” Dahlia sighed. Her eyes were stitched shut, and one hand had moved to cover her ear. He pet her tangled hair soothingly. 

Its old white wall crumbled from where it had been hit, pieces coming off in cement chunks. Cement chunks that made loud, awful explosion-like sounds when they made contact with the ground. And it took quite a while for said debre to hit the ground, a factor of how high up they were. Additionally, sound itself was also delayed for them. The rattling shockwave from the wrecking ball came a couple moments late, since Dahlia had insisted on keeping a decent distance away. 

The arm Dahlia had not occupied with keeping her ear covered was used to swiftly loop around his own arm, after a long moment without any sound. Soon after, a particularly loud shockwave engulfed the abandoned building they were in. He smiled down at her, curiously, almost in the way a scientist would look down at an unusual specimen. Her breaths were shaky, and he could feel her ribcage rise and deflate against his chest. 

Murphy cooed into her hair, speaking softly but not saying anything that comforting. A shiver wracked her spine, as she held tightly to his arm. She moved her hand off her ear, and her other ear off his chest, to grasp his sweater and pull herself up to kiss him, with the expectation that he'd cover her ears for her. Which he did.


End file.
